by Sam Crescent
“I’m not blind. I know how sexy she is. I imagine it’s quite hard to be around her all day and not think about doing a lot more than looking. Do you let your hands wander?”
“A capo you may be one day, Damon Romano, but don’t you ever imply that my intentions are any less than honorable. Isabella is a wonderful person and I see her as more of a daughter than anything else. I will take care of her.”
“Then you make sure that she’s protected. If she doesn’t follow their orders or makes waves for them, they will come for her.” He hung up his cell phone and took a seat.
All he wanted to do was get drunk and forget about everything that was his current problem. Running a hand down his face, he leaned back and recalled the memory of talking to Philip Drago.
“Why did you bring me here, old man? You’re not supposed to be showing any kind of weakness,” Damon said. He’d never been called to Philip Drago’s house for personal business before. This was all new for him. He respected this man, even if he did seem to be knocking on death’s door.
“Let’s cut the crap. You know why I want you here and it’s not for shits or giggles.”
“Your daughter.”
“You need a wife.”
Damon raised his brow. “And you think your little girl is woman enough for me.”
“I think you don’t even know how lucky you are that I’m considering you for my little girl. Don’t make the mistake a lot of men have made.”
The sudden shouting and fighting from the screen drew his attention. Philip had turned on the television. Rolling his eyes, he watched.
Isabella was on the screen and what he saw blew his mind. He’d never seen such a strong or determined woman. He licked his dry lips, taken aback by the scene. Her hair stuck to her forehead, and her face was red, but she stood tall, proud, almost begging for the men to fight her.
Pulling out of the memory, Damon released a sigh. Whatever happened, he really needed to win this woman once and for all. It wasn’t just about keeping his promise to her father, which he would do. No. This was now about his own sanity and without her, he was nothing. He needed her to survive, to love, to thrive, to flourish, and he alone could protect her.
Chapter Three
“Ouch!” Tears sprang to her eyes as she ran the brush through her long locks. Some of them didn’t want to be brushed.
“You okay?” Randy asked.
She dropped the hairbrush and shrugged. “Not really. My hair doesn’t seem to like me.” She pouted.
“How did your meeting go today?”
“As if you don’t know.” She rolled her eyes. “I’m not a fool. I know you’re helping him in some way.”
Randy sighed. “Your father did say you’d be aware of everything going on.”
“I told you. I know you and I know Damon wouldn’t be working alone.” She turned, crossed her legs beneath her, and gave Randy her full attention. “Come on then, what do you think?”
“What do I think about what?”
“Don’t be coy. It’s not very becoming. What about Damon?”
“What do you think about him?”
“Randy, you know I don’t want to get married. I don’t want to be at the mercy of any man, least of all someone with his reputation.”
“His reputation will keep you safe,” Randy said, placing a hand on her knee. He gave her a squeeze and she sighed.
“You’re not helping me.”
“You’re a strong woman, Bella, but even your father knew there was only so much training he could provide for you.”
“I know.” She sighed. “I hate feeling this way. I don’t want to get married. I thought the point of me doing all of this was to be able to make my own choices.”
“You don’t think you could ever have feelings for him?”
“No!” She groaned. “He’s … overbearing. He thinks he knows best.”
“Damon Romano does know best.”
“He doesn’t know everything,” she said.
Randy leaned forward. “He knows how the Family is going to treat you, honey. He knows it’s only a matter of time before something happens. You can’t keep living in a bubble and pretending you’re going to be okay.”
“I’m doing okay. I’m still alive, aren’t I?” she asked. “Shouldn’t you be going on a date tonight?”
“How do you know about that?”
“I know everything. Go. I’ll be fine.”
“I don’t like the thought of leaving you.”
She rolled her eyes. “Please, don’t worry about me. It’s not like I’m going to do anything exciting or thrilling. We’re all good here, I promise.” She offered him a smile. Being alone in the house wasn’t exactly on her list of things to look forward to, but she had to do it sometime. Besides, there were guards outside the house, and she refused to hinder Randy’s love life because of some insecurities from her.
This had been her home for forever, and she wasn’t leaving it.
“If you’re okay.”
“I’m fine. Please, you don’t need to worry about me. It will all be good.” She kept the smile on her face even though she didn’t feel happy inside. This was all for him, not for her. She licked her lips, waited, and waited some more.
He sighed. “Fine. Fine. I’ll go.” He got to his feet, moved to her, and kissed the top of her head. “You call me immediately if you think something is up.”
“Yep, that’s what I’m going to do. Stop stressing so much.” She stuck her tongue out at him and laughed.
“You’re right. Be careful.”
She watched him go and after the door echoed its close, she kept on standing there. This was the first time she’d been alone in the house since her father’s passing.
Swinging her arms around, she felt a ball in the pit of her stomach. She was all alone. No one was around.
Biting her lip, she tried not to feel the loneliness threatening to swallow her whole.
She was fine. Everything was good.
Taking another deep breath, she spun around and headed for the kitchen. She went straight to the ice cream in the freezer, grabbed a spoon, and went to her bedroom.
Once inside her room, she kept the door open and crawled onto the bed. There were several magazines open, all with the latest celebrity gossip, and they held no appeal. A romance book was also open.
She didn’t know when she’d gotten into the habit of not making her bed. It was one element she used to be meticulous about. Now, she slid out of bed and left it like she had the night before. Unless the sheets needed washing, she didn’t really do anything.
Dipping the spoon into the creamy vanilla ice cream, she rested against the headboard.
Silence.
It was fine.
She couldn’t handle the peace and quiet. It was usually the noise she couldn’t stand.
After years of screams and cries filling her ears, this was perfect. Only, it wasn’t.
She continued to eat her ice cream when all of a sudden, her bedroom light went out. In the hallway, she saw the lights had gone out as well.
Her heart started to race.
There was no way the electricity just went out. Putting the ice cream down, she walked to her wardrobe, grabbed two guns, and made sure they were loaded and ready.
In all the years her father had been alive, there had never been an attack on the house.
She moved to the doors, looking out over the garden. There was usually a guard near the light, which was still illuminated, and she saw his lifeless body on the ground.
Her home was under attack.
“Fuck!” She’d left her cell phone downstairs.
Going to the house phone, she realized it was dead too.
Great, just fucking great. The one day Randy decided to have a life, and she let him, she was fucked.
This was what she’d been training for. She’d been with her father’s men on attack missions, and this wasn’t news to her. Only, these bastards were in her house.
Her be
droom was at the end of a long corridor. She slid out of the door, closed and locked it. There had always been a lock on the outside of her bedroom for as long as she could remember, even if her father had never used it.
Come on, you’ve got this.
The house was dark but she knew this place even in her sleep. She knew when something was out of place, just like the dark figure who had yet to spot her.
Fuck.
The moment she fired, they would know.
This was the moment. She aimed and as he hadn’t seen her, she cut him straight in the head.
Now, she had to rush. He had an automatic weapon and not for the first time, she thanked her father for all the training.
She grabbed the knife wrap from his ankle, secured it to her own, and took his gun, holding it around her neck. Her father had given her the two guns that were in her hands, and she wasn’t going to part with them easily.
Down the stairs, shots were fired at her, and toward the bottom, she had no choice but to fling herself over the railing, landing a little badly on her ankles as she rolled toward the study. She fired at two more guards as they went down.
“Bad move, Is. Bad freaking move.” Grabbing her phone, she found cover. Lighting up the screen, she found Randy’s name to dial, only she’d taken the eye off the ball as it connected. One of her attackers had come up, grabbed her around the neck, and hauled her across the sofa.
“Fat bitch,” the man said.
She was all curves as well as muscle.
Slamming her elbow out at his knee, she waited for him to scream. He didn’t. She growled and did it again, then again until he let her go.
She’d dropped her guns, but she reached for the knife, lifting it and piercing his eye.
The distraction was enough as two more men appeared. She fired the automatic, injuring one, but another was there. As someone grabbed the gun from her, she was pulled and yanked, screaming and crying out. She didn’t know how it happened, but she was suddenly put in a chokehold. Spots appeared in front of her eyes, and she couldn’t breathe.
This was bad.
Her father’s words echoed through her mind.
“It is very dangerous to lose your guard. Anything can happen, and when it does, it can mean the difference between life and death. You’re a woman, sweetheart. It means they expect you to panic. To scare you. They may even attempt to rape you, but with this, you need to keep your head. To give them something to be surprised about. In this fight, you never, ever play by the rules. You fight dirty.”
She slammed her hand back, grabbed the man’s dick, and kept on squeezing. She twisted left and right, almost as if she was using his dick as a doorknob. Over and over, she kept on doing it, waiting, desperate, and the man let go. The knife was in reach. Quickly spinning, she slammed the blade into his dick before pulling it out and slashing him across the throat.
Blood spilled out and she didn’t move fast enough as he collapsed over her. More blood covered her clothes. She quickly slid out from beneath him and grabbed his gun.
Just as she was about to start firing, the lights came on, and her guards, what was left of them, came rushing in. Most of them were covered in blood.
Her ankles hurt as well as her neck.
“They’re dead, Miss,” the man said.
She couldn’t remember his name. The moment she got over her near-death experience, she’d thank him and recall every minute detail about him.
Nodding her head, she struggled to breathe and moved to the phone. Randy was still on the line.
“We’re okay,” she said. Her voice was croaky.
“What the fuck, Bella,” he said.
“We were attacked, but it’s safe now.”
“Bella, be careful.”
“Why?”
“The Family are on their way. Damon’s on his way.”
“Okay, fine.”
“Yeah, but I got the call a second before you called.”
This made her freeze as she looked at the masked men. Going to one, she pulled off the masks. “I don’t recognize them.”
“You won’t, but when they arrive, if I’m not there, you stick to Damon. Don’t trust anyone else.”
“Got it.” If the Family had called Randy before she had, it meant they were already aware of the attack, and the only way to be aware of something was to know about it first.
The Family had sent these men to kill her. She glanced down at her pajamas covered in blood and the state of her face and body. There would be bruises. One of the men had gotten in a punch or two. She was going to feel this in the morning.
She’d find out who did this, and then she’d take great pleasure in killing every single fucking one of them.
****
Masked men and guards covered the grounds. Damon slammed the door shut as his father did. Some of the Family were already there. He didn’t know how the call had come through, but Randy had already given him the warning as well as the alert.
This was a planned attack by their own people. His father had seemed surprised when he told him.
There was no sign of Randy. Entering the house, he saw guards. Some of them smoking, others stood watching. The men who worked for Isabella looked damn proud. There was no sign of the woman of the house.
“I’m not going anywhere.”
He certainly heard her voice.
Entering the study, he came to a stop when he caught sight of her. She wore a white crop top, and a pair of pants, pajamas. They were covered in blood. Her long black hair fell down around her in waves. She looked ready to kill.
A bruise covered her eye, leading down to her mouth. One of the attackers had gotten in a punch, which pissed him off. He also noticed the bruise around her neck from a chokehold. Her voice also showed signs of the stress it had been under.
There were five of the surrounding capos in residence. This was unusual and Damon wasn’t happy about any of this, as all of these men were close to the Boss as well.
Isabella glanced toward him and nodded.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“Damon, you shouldn’t be in here,” one of the men said.
He didn’t care about protocol. They were staring at her in her pajamas. Besides, he knew for a fact this was a fucking attack and he wasn’t going to stand by and let her get hurt. He stepped closer.
“Actually, he has every right to be here,” Isabella said. “You see, today, Damon told me about his intentions and with my father’s blessing, I’ve decided to accept him.”
“What is this?” Damon Romano Sr. asked.
“I’ve accepted Damon’s hand in marriage. It was my father’s final wish. If you’d been present during the reading of his will, you would’ve seen that he wished for me to be with Damon.” She moved toward him and he noticed her limp, which again only served to really piss him off.
She was in pain, and these fuckers hadn’t even bothered to help her.
He wrapped his arms around her, keeping her close, not even caring about the blood covering her body. He’d handle whatever she needed from him and he’d do it gladly.
“I’ve got you,” he said. He didn’t expect her to accept his proposal but getting killed certainly put priorities in order.
“There has to be some kind of meeting and acceptance of this. We are unaware of your father’s wishes.”
“I can help with that,” Randy said, entering the room. He was a little out of breath but he didn’t stop as he moved toward the desk. This was her father’s study. It hadn’t been that long since he’d last been here.
Randy pulled out an envelope, the same one Isabella’s father had shown him.
It was handed to his father, who opened it and read out Philip Drago’s last wishes. He’d read the letter himself and watched as Philip got the necessary signatures to guarantee his wishes would be kept.
“Isabella Drago will be my wife. I suggest you take that to the Boss and make sure he agrees, and we’ll see this wedding handled quickly.�
��
“Son, you cannot stay here. It’s not … decent.”
“She was attacked tonight by a group of men. I’m not going anywhere. Randy will be here. He’ll vouch for her honor, won’t you?”
“Yes, sir.”
“You’re not a capo yet,” his father said.
“No, but before I’m married, I will be.” The necessary arrangements had already been put in place for him to take his father’s capo title, but now he’d also hold the rank here as Isabella’s husband. “I imagine all of the details will be handled swiftly.”
The men all looked at each other, clearly disappointed with tonight’s outcome. Not only had Isabella lived, they hadn’t got their hands on whatever her father held on them, and his title. With Isabella gone and not married, the title would have to go to someone. His father didn’t benefit from an additional title as he held his own Capo rank. Someone, somewhere, wanted this place, and he had to get to the bottom of it.
Isabella wouldn’t die and as he’d now made his intentions clear, it had also helped whoever was after her. His reputation with women would give them the perfect reason to attack.
Fuck!
One by one, the men left and the cleanup crew arrived.
Randy led the way into the kitchen and he watched as Isabella swiped her father’s whiskey on the way out of the room. Once inside the kitchen, Randy started to check for any listening devices or bugs that might be there. “We’re good.”
Damon watched as Isabella grabbed three glasses and filled each with a shot of whiskey. She grabbed one glass, downed it, pulled a face as if she was disgusted with the taste, and filled it again.
Randy sipped at his while Damon swallowed his down. By the time he put his glass down, she was already onto the fourth shot.
“Don’t you think you should slow that down?” he asked.
“Nope.”
“Why not?”
“I’ve been shot at, nearly killed, and I think having a little drink will calm me down.”
“It’s what her father did,” Randy said. “After her first attack mission she was shaking and terrified. The whiskey, it helps to calm her down.”
“It does?” Damon asked. This woman was just getting better and better in his book. She could fight, take care of herself, and she had damn good taste in whiskey. He nodded for her to give him another shot.
